


this'll put colour in your cheeks

by intearsaboutrobots



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, just some fun fluff, like eaarly right before ice party starts, set in Autumn in Hieron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:23:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intearsaboutrobots/pseuds/intearsaboutrobots
Summary: Hadrian and Fantasmo meet the elf that will be guiding them through the Mark of the Erasure. First impressions are made.





	this'll put colour in your cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> A Secret Samol present for [@wunderwirker](http://wunderwirker.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Title is from _Colour in Your Cheeks_ by The Mountain Goats, which is an absolute jam if you're into found family

“I don’t see why  _ I _ need to be present for this meeting. Surely the council understands that for a wizard such as myself, this insignificant business is a waste of my considerable talents!”

Hadrian suppressed a sigh. It was not the first time he’d had to this evening. Internally, he allowed himself a moment of bitterness that the Council had chosen to apply Fantasmo’s  _ considerable talents _ to this journey into the Erasure. He, of course, was not questioning their decision, but the more of Fantasmo’s griping he heard, the less enthusiasm he could summon for their approaching quest. 

“Look, I know you don’t feel this meeting is important, but the Council does. Please just  _ try _ to be polite?”

Fantasmo simply grumbled something inaudible and pushed ahead. Hadrian wasn’t surprised. He could hear the staid, moralising tone of his own words and didn’t expect Fantasmo to take them to heart. Still, he had an obligation to try. Maybe, he allowed himself to hope, their guide would be an ally, rather than another immature and dangerous person for him to shepherd. 

It would be easier to keep his composure, he reflected, if he could get even one night of uninterrupted rest, but the nightmares were only getting worse. The sight of the gently swinging sign for The Second Deer filled him with more relief than he was proud of. Fantasmo muttered some complaint about the type of place he was used to at the University as he strode through the crooked wooden doorway. Hadrian twisted his ring, silently asking Samothes for strength, before he took a breath and followed. 

The warm, dim room wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people to make picking out their guide-to-be difficult. Hadrian scanned the bar. 

A tall, broad-shouldered woman sat at the end furthest from the fire, the flickering shadows not quite hiding the red, puckered scar that ranged from her jawline up over her left eye. She looked up to meet Hadrian’s gaze, looking him and Fantasmo over in turn before turning back to her drink, scoffing lightly under her breath. 

A few seats down, a halfling stared intently into their mug, not their first if their swaying on the stool was anything to go by. A cloaked figure sitting next to them noticed Hadrian’s gaze and placed a steadying hand on their back, giving Hadrian a dirty look. He hastily jerked his eyes away, searching the room for a likely face, when-

“Hey! Over here!” 

Hadrian turned towards the voice and saw an stocky elf sitting by the fire next to a large dog, waving enthusiastically. The hand he was waving with was currently holding a chicken wing. As Hadrian watched, the dog took advantage of the elf’s distraction to steal a wing for himself from the half-full plate. A harumph behind him drew his attention to Fantasmo, who looked even more disdainful than usual. 

“ _ This _ is to be our guide through the Mark of the Erasure?” he hissed, hardly quieter than his usual speaking volume. Hadrian winced, hoping the ambient chatter kept his words from carrying. 

“Yes he is, and I’m sure he is well-qualified for the position. The Council wouldn’t have assigned someone less than competent, and we will be grateful for his expertise on this mission.” 

Hadrian was disappointed but not surprised to see that Fantasmo was unconvinced by his speech. The scornful expression that twisted his features seemed unwarranted, however. And seemed to be aimed over his shoulder. 

Turning, Hadrian saw the elf was now wrestling his dog’s mouth open to try and fish out the chicken bone. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“I’m sure he’ll be a valuable resource,” he said, this time entirely to himself. He wasn’t convinced either.

* * *

The inn had emptied out, and those who remained were getting considerably more raucous. A woman behind Hadrian, gesturing extravagantly in the retelling of an enthusiastic but improbable story, had spilled half a flagon of beer down his back and he was beginning to feel uncomfortably sticky.

Throndir and his dog, who he’d introduced as Kodiak, were unbothered by the rowdy atmosphere. Kodiak was enjoying the attention from the bar’s patrons, although he had inexplicably chosen Fantasmo as his favourite. The look of sheer horror on Fantasmo’s face when Kodiak laid his head on his lap and started drooling had almost made up for the drink tackily drying on the back of Hadrian’s doublet. 

Throndir found it all fascinating, looking around wide-eyed as if every part of this experience was worth treasuring. He certainly seemed to be treasuring the food and drinks. Hadrian had almost knocked over one of the half-empty dishes crowding the table several times. Throndir was untroubled, apparently happy to stay at the table forever, trying everything on the menu and asking Fantasmo a seemingly endless stream of questions. 

They’d been there for a while discussing what supplies would be necessary for the cold weather, and Throndir’s cheeks were rosy as he finished off his mug of cider and set it down.

“I can’t believe you guys have drinks made out of apples! Hey, Fantasmo, did the elves where you come from ha-”

“Was there anything else that we should pack?” Hadrian interrupted, “Or prepare before we leave?”

Throndir deflated slightly as he turned back to Hadrian. Hadrian tried not to feel guilty. It was just getting late, and he didn’t have time to sit here and listen to Fantasmo get annoyed at questions about what  _ fruit  _ he’d had. He listened attentively to Throndir’s somewhat rambling final pieces of advice, then stood up from the table.

“We really should be going, it’ll be a long day tomorrow to buy all the supplies you recommended.”

Fantasmo took this excuse to stand as well, pushing Kodiak off of him. A large dark spot on his robes marked where the dog’s head had rested, and Hadrian smothered his satisfaction at seeing Fantasmo delicately hold the fabric away from his body with an expression of supreme disgust. 

“Oh! Right, sure. Kodiak and I should probably head back to where we’re staying too.”

Kodiak obediently went to Throndir’s side as he stood up and grabbed his cloak, almost knocking over a precariously placed mug in the process. Carefully, the trio picked their way out through the crowd. Hadrian breathed in the cool night air with relief. The warm atmosphere in the pub had grown cloying, and the breeze was chilly but welcome. 

“Well. I’ll see you when we’re heading out, I guess!” 

Throndir gave a slightly awkward wave before heading down the street, Kodiak following at his heels. Hadrian watched them go until they turned off down an alley and disappeared from sight. Next to him, Fantasmo was still swabbing ineffectually at his robe, grumbling under his breath. Hadrian hummed thoughtfully. 

“Fantasmo.”

Fantasmo grumbled to himself for another moment before responding in annoyed tones, “Yes?”

“Did Throndir just walk down that dark alley?”

“Yes, he did. Are your Samothes-protected eyes failing you?”

Hadrian chose not to rise to the bait and continued, “The same alley those three people with poorly-hidden weapons just turned down?”

“I suppose, yes. Do these questions have a point?” Fantasmo was still rubbing the fabric of his robe, but he looked up over his glasses at Hadrian.

Hadrian sighed. 

“We have to go after him.” 

Fantasmo began to protest, but Hadrian cut him off. “No, he’s new to the city and very obvious about it, he’s about to get very robbed.”

Fantasmo huffed. “Sounds like a useful lesson to him! What use is a guide if  _ we’ll _ be keeping  _ him _ out of danger?”

“He won’t be a guide to anyone if he gets stabbed, now come on.”

Hadrian began to walk towards the alley. A few seconds later, he heard a resigned grumble and Fantasmo’s long strides quickly catching up to him. They rounded the corner together, Hadrian’s hand resting on his halberd, and -

Stopped short.

Kodiak was no longer placid and relaxed. He growled menacingly, drool dripping onto the cheek of the frightened thief holding very still under Kodiak’s heavy paw. One of their companions lay fallen further down the alley. They hissed through their teeth, blood seeping over their hands where they clutched at the arrow lodged in their thigh. Throndir turned to them and smiled a slightly confused but genuine smile, apparently oblivious to the woman gasping and clawing at his arm where he had pinned her by the throat against the wall. 

“Oh hey guys! I thought you were heading home for the night.” A thought seemed to occur to him, and his face brightened. “Did you decide you wanted to try that fantastic inky pasta I heard about? It’s late but I’m sure we’d still have time.”

Hadrian slowly released his grip on his halberd. 

“Well,” he remarked weakly. “We don’t have to worry about protecting our guide.”


End file.
